Interludes
by thievinghippo
Summary: "Life is a mosaic of pleasure and pain - grief is an interval between two moments of joy. Peace is the interlude between two wars." - Sri Sathya Sai Baba. A collection of swtor one-shots across all eight classes, in no particular order. Spoilers for all story lines.
1. Republic Trooper, Tatooine

Here you'll find one-shots for all eight classes and their romances. There will be spoilers for all eight classes. These stories are in no particular order, but before each one, I'll post the class and when about the one-shot takes place.

* * *

**Class: **Republic Trooper

**When: **Episode I, Tatooine

* * *

"I think that's everyone, sir," Jorgan said, peering out into the dust storm. "What do you think? Wait it out at the ship?"

Wynneth followed his gaze. She could still see the outlines of the buildings outside, but according to Galen, soon Anchorhead would disappear in a cloud of dust. Her shoulder throbbed a bit. One of these days she'd have to bite the bullet and have Dorne take a look. Stretching her arms behind her back, she said, "Be more trouble than it's worth. We've been running around all day. Might be nice to sit down for a bit."

"Works for me," Jorgan said. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Gonna run to the head."

She nodded and began the process of sitting down in heavy armor, always harder than it looked, even with a lighter variety that she preferred. Once she gently placed her assault rifle down on the ground next to her, Wynneth brought her knees up to her chest. Her eyelids felt like they had weights on them, but she would never consider closing her eyes in a place like Anchorhead. Not until Jorgan got back at least. Then perhaps she could take a quick nap.

Outside, the dust storm started to rage, leaving Wynneth glad that they decided not to venture to the next outpost. Who'd want to be out in that weather? She let out a snort of a laugh, thinking that the storm reflected her mood. Since when did she consider herself a warrior-poet?

Her thoughts almost immediately turned melancholy. Jorgan would disagree, she knew, but Wynneth had a hard time trying convince herself that their mission so far had been anything than a failure. Two members of the original Havoc squad dead. And she had a hard time believing that the rest would have a dissimilar fate.

Where did she go wrong? She had so many hopes pinned to this mission and now it felt harder than catching water in her palms.

"That's a dangerous look, rookie," Jorgan said.

Wynneth looked up and saw Jorgan holding two cups of coffee. "Oh stars, you're my hero," she said, reaching up for the coffee cup before Jorgan even had a chance to offer it to her.

He gave her a grin. "Who said one's for you?" Jorgan said, placing a cup in her hands. Even through her armored gloves she could feel the warmth of the cup. "Maybe I'm just really thirsty."

"No teasing your CO," Wynneth said, taking a sip. Perfect. Jorgan somehow managed to put in just the right amount of cream. "You are a lifesaver."

"All part of the job."

Wynneth sipped at her coffee while Jorgan maneuvered to sit down on the floor next to her, balancing his coffee without spilling a drop. "Could have held that for you," she said.

"I trust you with my life," Jorgan said seriously. He took a sip and closed his eyes. "Not with my coffee."

"That stings, Jorgan," Wynneth said, pleased to not think about the death and destruction they would leave behind on Tatooine. She didn't sign up for the army to cause death, she wanted to prevent it.

"There's that look again," Jorgan said, his voice softer than Wynneth ever remembered hearing before.

Her gauntlets kept her from feeling the warmth of the cup in her hands. Not that she needed extra warmth on Tatooine. She knew already she looked a mess, her hair matted and droplets of sweat trickling down her temple. "You must have thought I was an idiot."

Jorgan froze next to her, his coffee cup half way to his mouth. "Sir?"

"We're off duty, Jorgan. Cut the 'sir' crap."

After taking a sip, Jorgan leaned back his head so it rested against the cool tile. "Care to explain?"

"When I promised Kardan that I'd bring them back alive…" Wynneth trailed off, thinking of the tense meeting on Coruscant. "You must of thought I was so stupid." This time she did close her eyes, picturing the Needles and Fuse, dead, because she hadn't been smart enough, fast enough, strong enough.

Jorgan let out a low whistle. "You really want to know what I think?"

"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't," Wynneth said. She turned her head to meet his gaze, wondering why his opinion was so damn important to her.

He looked right back at her. There was no challenge in his gaze, no pity, only understanding. "I thought it was naive to promise that," Jorgan said after a moment. "I get why you did. You truly believed that you could, rookie, and that's commendable. And up until we put a bullet in Needles' brain, you had me believing, too. But those kind of traitors…"

"Would never let themselves be captured alive," Wynneth finished. "So we kill them instead." Her toes curled, as if to ground her closer to the earth. "Sometimes I'm just really sick of death, Jorgan."

"Soldiers like you and me? We don't have the luxury of getting tired," Jorgan said, shaking his head. "We're the ones that take care of the dirty work so a fresh face recruit can believe they can make a difference."

"You just described me ten years ago," Wynneth said with a sigh, thinking how optimistic she was when she enlisted, thinking she would help rid the galaxy of the Empire and make things better for everyone. And then came the Outer Rim and she never looked at the galaxy with quite the same innocence.

"Ignore me," Jorgan said. "I'm Cathar, we tend towards the naturally pessimistic."

Wynneth bit her lip, thinking of her younger self. She wondered what her eighteen year old self would think of her now, the commander of Havoc squad with access to almost all the secrets the Republic had to offer. Eighteen year old Wynneth would be horrified of all the skeletons in the closet. Now, she simply hoped the closet was big and secure enough to hold them all. Somehow she doubted it. But that was for another day.

She took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes. Yes, she was older and wiser, than the eager ensign she had been, but that didn't mean she had to lose her optimism completely. They had another lead, on Alderaan. Maybe, just maybe they could bring someone, anyone, in alive. Wynneth knew Jorgan wanted them all dead, but she had made a promise. She owed it to her eighteen year old self to try to fulfill it, no matter what.

With a sigh, Wynneth brought out her datapad. Might as well catch up on some datawork while they were stuck here. Jorgan followed her lead and together, they waited for the dust to settle.


	2. Sith Warrior, Taris

**Class: **Sith Warrior

**When: **Taris

* * *

Maevry had to concentrate to keep her hands from shaking. She had been close to death before, but never like this. Never at the mercy of a computer.

General Minsk didn't stir from his stupor. "Is other one secure?" Maevry asked, looking down at Quinn, who handcuffed the man for transport.

"Yes, my lord," Quinn said, standing then straightening his uniform jacket.

Maevry didn't think she imagined the slight tremor in his voice. His usual unflappable demeanor seemed off kilter somewhat and Maevry understood he had been just as affected as she was. He must be. How else would he have ever said what he said?

_I believe you know how I feel about you, my lord._

And that was the crux of the problem. She _did_ know. She knew he cared about her a great deal. Every look, every word told her how much he cared about her. Yet he continued to deny his passion, holding everything back.

"I hear the evacuation squad," Quinn said, looking at the door entrance.

"Good," Maevry said, placing her hand on her lightsaber. She needed to feel its heft in her hands, to feel in control of something once again. "I want to see if there's been any news on the search for General Durant."

The squad came marching in and took over quickly, Quinn explaining what was to be done with Minsk to the squad leader. Together, she and Quinn left the room, him by her side instead of a few steps behind as was his custom.

The moment they turned the corner and were out of sight, Maevry let out a gasp of surprise as Quinn pushed her up against the wall, his hands at her waist.

_Finally,_ Maevry thought desperately, her entire body ready to cry out in triumph. Her fingers gripped the front of his uniform jacket, trying to bring him as close as possible. Stars, how she could drink him up right now.

Their eyes met, and Maevry sense an electricity between them. His gloved hand caressed her cheek and Maevry leaned into his touch. "My lord," he said.

His voice was low and thrilled Maevry to no end. She had never once heard those words from his lips sound more appealing. It took every effort not to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him madly. But for this, their first kiss, he must make the move. She had to be absolutely certain that this was something that he wanted as much as she did.

Before he could bring his lips to hers, Maevry's holocom beeped, using the emergency channel. Quinn stepped back at once, leaving Maevry bereft of his warmth and she cursed whoever it was on the other end.

Pierce. Of course.

She listened to the lieutenant carefully, sensing him through the Force. Pierce was a rare breed of soldier, completely committed to the cause. As she reached out, she also took a moment to evaluate Quinn.

That brief, shining flare of passion she felt from him had completely disappeared, leaving only the cool, calm presence she had grown used to by her side. She could feel him turning in on himself and away from her. To come so close, only to have it ripped away… Maevry wanted to stamp her foot in the frustration of it all.

The call ended and as Maevry put away her holocom, Quinn said, his voice brisk, "We best make haste to Lieutenant Pierce, my lord."

Maevry nodded. She was not about to let good soldiers die while she dealt with her love life. They could talk on the way. Spinning on her heel, she started to walk out of the chemical plant, hearing the surefooted step of Quinn right behind her.

She didn't speak until they were outside. Maevry took a deep breath, trying to think of what a beautiful world Taris must have been at some point. The sky above her filled with stars and even the humidity couldn't keep her from enjoying the night air.

"It's not far," Quinn said. "We can pick up two speeders at the next outpost for the remainder of the journey."

"If you say," Maevry said, starting to walk. She set a quick pace, not wanting to waste time. Almost a minute of silence passed before the words burst out. "Did you mean what you said?"

His shoulders tensed and she saw his hands curl into fists. He did not break stride, however. She would never expect him to. "Even if I did, I should not have said it."

Again the urge to put her hands on hips and stamp her foot overwhelmed her. She would not appear childish in front of Quinn. Not when she knew the difference in their ages already concerned him. "Why?" she asked through gritted teeth. "If that's how you truly feel…"

"We are in the middle of a mission, my lord," he said, looking resolutely ahead. "Surely now is not the most opportune time to discuss the matter."

She took a deep breath and let go of the tension riding in her shoulders. Quinn looked like he was spoiling for a fight. Perhaps that's what he wanted, an excuse to change his mind and shut himself away from her forever. Well, she was not about to give him one. Sounding perfectly calm, Maevry said, "You're right, of course, Captain."

His eyes widened a bit in shock and Maevry felt her lips twist into a smirk. _Not what you expected, Captain, was it?_

A comfortable silence fell between them as they entered the outpost. As Maevry sat down and started her speeder, she said, "Just as long as you realize, Captain, at that some point, we will be discussing the matter."

Maevry gave herself only a moment to appreciate the way his cheek's reddened and his sharp intake of breath before riding off.

They did have a mission to complete, after all.


	3. Sith Inquisitor, Taris

**Class: **Sith Inquisitor

**When: **Episode II, Taris

* * *

Revel had frequented many a cantina in his day. He'd been in classy ones, where all the unseemliness stayed neatly out of sight for the rich patrons. And he had been in bad ones, the type where spice flowed freely and offered to anyone.

His favorites, though, were the dives. Small hole in the walls, where a person could drink in peace and get some business done. Some of his best deals came from those types of places. But this cantina, with Imperial soldiers and Sith crawling all over the place, was like no cantina he had ever been in before.

Made his skin crawl, especially not having Denravi at his back. Revel threw back a shot of whiskey, wanting to laugh at the irony that he trusted a Sith more than anyone in the galaxy right now to have his six.

They had been supposed to meet at the cantina close to a half hour ago, but Denravi was nowhere to be seen. Probably got stopped by some Imperial, wanting a favor. Knowing her, Denravi would have some new task for them tomorrow on this hellhole of a world. After only one day, he absolutely hated Taris.

But he had to admit, he sort of respected that Denravi kept trying to help people. It had been years since Revel had given a thought to anyone other to himself and his crew. Not since his Republic days.

Speaking of, he'd probably have to tell her about those Republic days at some point. Not that it was her business or anything. But since they would hopefully continue this habit of sleeping together, it wouldn't hurt to give her a few details about his past.

Fingers slid across his shoulders and Revel smiled to himself. He turned, expecting to see Denravi, but instead found himself face to face with that damn Sith apprentice, Thana.

"Well, well, well," Thana said, her voice low. "I'm surprised your master let you out of her sight for even a moment."

Revel clenched his fists, knowing he had to tread carefully. Damn, he hated dealing with Sith. His Sith was one of the only sane one he knew, and even she was chasing ghosts.

Wait. _His_ Sith?

"She's not my master," Revel said slowly, trying to keep his anger in check. The cantina was full of Sith. One wrong move and he'd be mowed down in a less than a heartbeat. _Where the hell was Denravi?_ "I'm not a slave."

Thana laughed, clearly not believing him. "I have something to discuss with you, slave or no slave," Thana said. "Follow me."

Denravi would owe him for this. The two of them should be having a drink, and then heading back to that quiet, private bunk she had been given simply for being Sith, where they could have a quick fuck before getting some sleep. "Yes, my lord," Revel said, refusing to let the venom he felt towards Thana be heard in his voice. He needed to live through this encounter for no other reason than to yell at Denravi.

Thana led him to a corner of the cantina. He made sure his back was to the wall, so he could see the entire cantina, including the entrance. The moment Denravi stepped inside, he wanted to know. "I have… a proposition," Thana said.

Itching to feel his blasters in his hands, Revel instead crossed his arms over his chest. "What?" he asked, trying to think of what this woman could possibly want with him.

"How much would it cost for you to kill her?" Thana asked casually.

"I'm not an assassin," Revel said at once, which wasn't exactly true. In his seven years of captaining the Sky Princess, he had killed a couple of people for money. But no amount of credits would get him to kill Denravi. First, Khem Val or Zash or whoever it was now would kill him almost instantly. Second, he had a fairly good gig set up with Denravi. She paid him what he considered to be a generous stipend. He didn't have to worry about room and board, and she paid for almost all of his armor and weapons. And third… well, frankly, he liked her. They worked well together, especially in bed.

Why would he want to give all of that up just for credits?

"Everyone has a price," Thana said, narrowing her eyes. "I want yours."

Revel glanced at the entrance of the Cantina, to see Denravi walking into the cantina. Their eyes met and his shoulders slumped just slightly in relief, enough that Thana noticed.

She whipped her head around and Revel saw the bartender droid handing Denravi a drink. When Denravi glanced back at them, Thana grabbed Revel by the shoulders and forced a kiss on him.

Revel didn't flinch, he didn't move a single muscle and most certainly did not kiss her back as he waited for Thana to step away. When she finally did, Thana gave Denravi a smirk and then stalked out of the cantina.

Shaking his head, Revel walked back over to Denravi, who sat at the bar, two shot glasses in front of her. He stood next to her, leaning against the bar, invading her personal space a bit. She stared into the shot glass, like it held the answers to the universe.

The realization of how things must have looked like when she entered the Cantina slowly dawned on him. "I didn't fuck her," Revel said, keeping his voice quiet. A lot of women he knew would have stamped their feet and wrung their hands, seeing the guy they're sleeping with being kissed by another. If Denravi turned out to be one of those… Well, maybe he'd take off after they were done here on Taris.

Still not looking at him, Denravi pushed one of the shot glasses towards him. Alderaanian whiskey. His favorite. She met his gaze then. "I know."

"How do you know?" Revel challenged.

Denravi picked up her shot, some sort of light blue concoction and threw it back. Then turning to look at him, said, "Because you just told me," she said, her voice soft. She shrugged her shoulder. "Even if you had, it's not my business unless you want it to be." She gave him a wry smile. "You don't ever have to lie to me, pirate."

The tightening Revel began to feel in his chest relaxed a bit. She wasn't going to hound him like Casey or Anira, wondering where he spent his evenings or complain how much he spent on gadgets for his blasters. He wouldn't have to come up with half-truths or white lies to get through rocky patches. And if he looked at another woman or spent too much time by himself, it sounded like he wouldn't have to defend himself.

He could just be himself.

Funny how a little thing like that could make him feel like he was piloting a ship.

Like he was completely free.


	4. Jedi Consular, The Defender

**Class: **Jedi Consular

**When: **Episode III, before the Javelin

* * *

Felix leans against the doorway from the ship's bridge, waiting for the hallway to clear out. Zenith is speaking to one of the Voss commandos, discussing tactics. Once again Felix curses the designer of this ship, having the captain's cabin entrance right off of the main hallway. Any other boat, he could slip into his girlfriend's room without anyone being the wiser.

Sure, V'ryss told him to come and go as he pleases, saying she knows the Jedi Council will catch wind of their relationship sooner or later. Secrecy isn't the worth the effort, in her opinion. But as he watches Tharan walk from the conference room to the stairs leading to the lower levels, he wonders why invite trouble?

Finally Zenith and the commando leave the hallway and Felix grabs his chance and briskly walks to V'ryss's door. It opens at once, recognizing his biometrics and he enters, only to see V'ryss sitting at the edge of the bed, sobbing.

His heart constricts. Felix has seen her hurt, seen her upset, but he has never, _ever _seen her cry before. Part of him thought Jedi couldn't cry, though he knows that's foolish. Jedi feel every emotion under the sun, just don't let themselves be ruled by it.

"V'ryss?" he asks, his voice soft. He feels a moment of doubt, one he hopes disappears one of these days, and wonders if she's changed her mind, about him, about them. He forces the errant thought away. She loves him. Felix knows this. He refuses to doubt.

She sits up straight, a hand wiping away her tears. "Felix," she says, holding out her hand to him.

The sight of her blue skin next to his dark brown never ceases to amaze him. He takes her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. It's the hand she holds her Light Saber and he can feel the calluses on her fingertips. Gently, he brings her fingertips to his lips and gives them a kiss. The move works and she smiles, clutching the bundle of furs she holds in her lap.

During dark times, which happen more often than he cares to admit, Felix thinks of himself as tainted, thanks to the holocron of Sith knowledge in his head. But all V'ryss has to do is smile at him, that smile he's never seen directed anywhere but to him, and he knows he's not. She is the brightest thing in his life and he knows she will fight through star stuff to keep him safe. And he'll do the same for her.

He sits next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, glad he's wearing a BDU instead of his heavy armor. She relaxes against him at once and Felix holds her a little tighter, soaking her slightly elevated skin temperature. Kissing her temple, he whispers, "What's wrong?"

V'ryss lifts the fur she's holding. "This is," she says, her voice empty.

Felix reaches out and strokes the fur. It's not from an animal he recognizes, but in a galaxy as large as theirs, that's to be expected. "What is it?" he asks.

Resting her head on his shoulder, V'ryss says, "A Wookie pelt."

All Felix can do is blink. V'ryss hates hunting. It's the one major disagreement between them. There's nothing more relaxing to Felix than being in the wild looking for trophies. To V'ryss, hunting for sport is wasteful and makes a mockery of the Force. And yet she travels with a Trandoshan who considers V'ryss a Herald for his religion. Felix called her out on her hypocrisy once. They finally agreed to disagree before words were spoke that couldn't be taken back.

"Why do you have a Wookie pelt?" he asks. For a moment, he wonders if she meant to give it to him; she's given him gifts he'd considered trophies before, like that ID for that crime lord on Nar Shaddaa or the Krayt Dragon Pearl. But never something like a pelt.

"Qyzen gave it to me."

"Wait…" Felix trailed off and looked at V'ryss. He and Qyzen get along well and talk shop a lot during the long stretches of travel. From these conversations, Felix knows that giving someone a Wookie pelt like this is a romantic gesture for a Trandoshan, something you would only do for a mate.

Waving her hand, V'ryss says, "It's not what you think." She almost cracks a smile at that. "He gave it to me so I could give it to you."

"And the thought makes you cry?" Felix says, letting his voice deadpan a bit.

She punches him lightly on the shoulder. "Now you're just being silly." Leaning forward, she presses her lips against his. Felix closes his eyes and kisses her back. For a moment, he doesn't think of anything except her. When V'ryss pulls away, she hugs the pelt to her chest. "I just keep thinking… This was a sentient creature at some point. They had hopes and dreams, maybe a family. What if they left a mate behind or children…" V'ryss flops back onto the bed and sighs. Times like this he remembers how young she really is. "And now this beautiful pelt represents a trophy instead of someone's _life."_

Felix lays beside her, on his side, running his hands through her hair. He can't keep the pelt, he know this. The last thing he wants to accept a gift that causes her so much pain. "There's an organization I know of," he says quietly. "For hunters. They take part of kills that a hunter can't use, like bone or fur or even extra meat, and gives them away to people in need."

Her red eyes light up slightly and he can tell her interest is piqued. Amazing how when he first was assigned to Hoth how he thought the only word he would ever use to describe Chiss eyes was 'creepy.' Now he can't think of another set of eyes as beautiful as hers. "This organization could use the pelt?"

He nods, enjoying the feeling of her hair between his fingers. She hardly ever wears it down, but she does, he needs to take advantage. "There's a lot they could do with a pelt this size. A blanket, lining for coats, hats, that sort of thing."

"Could we donate it?" she asks, grabbing his hand. "Please?" Her mouth opens to say something else but she stops. "Wait. This is a gift. A gift for you. If you want to keep-"

"We'll donate it," Felix says, in a voice he knows books no disagreement. Thought he must admit, part of him thrilled over saying the word 'we.' Even with everything the galaxy is throwing at them, they are together, and they are fighting for each other. She and he truly have become 'we.'

He's rewarded with a smile and a quick kiss on the lips. "Thank you," she says softly. "I know Qyzen meant well and I try so hard to be tolerate, but sometimes…"

"He'll never have to know," Felix says, taking the pelt from her arms. Standing up, Felix folds the pelt respectfully and places it in the dresser drawer that has become his. "Now." Felix turns to face V'ryss and he sees the hungry look in her eyes, a look he's sure reflected in his own. "Perhaps we have some time so I can show you my gratitude for receiving such a gift?"

V'ryss's smile lights up her whole face and she reaches for him, even as she's lying on her back. Felix joins her on the bed and then the only gifts they think about for a time are the ones they can experience right here and right now.


	5. Sith Inquisitor, Act II Finale

**Class: **Sith Inquisitor

**When: **Act II Finale

* * *

And then he watched her die.

Denravi collapsed to the floor like a puppet cut loose from its strings. "Sith!" Revel called out, running over to her. He didn't think of his own safety, of the ghosts and visions and apparitions crawling around the place.

"Don't you dare be dead, Sith," Revel whispered, lifting her head off of the ground. Her body started convulsing slightly and he turned her to her side. While convulsions weren't good, they meant she wasn't dead. He'd take anything he could get. "I am not piloting your ship without you."

Think. He had to think. They were in Darth Thanaton's private chambers in the Citadel. The rest of her companions were back enjoying the hospitality of Dromund Kaas. Picking her up and taking her to a medical droid was not an option. The last thing she'd want is for anyone to know. Sith already looked down on her for being a former slave. They find out she has ghosts in her head? They'd be out for blood.

Drellik was the only option. Revel's hands felt clumsy at a time when he needed them to be steady, more than ever, as he grabbed his holocom. The reclamation officer was flighty, but Revel knew deep down, he was an officer. He'd rise to the occasion. Revel had seen it more than once happen in his Republic days.

Within seconds, Drellik appeared on the com. _Revel? I didn__'t expect-_

"Grab Ashara and Khem and get over here now," Revel spat out. "Denravi's in trouble."

Drellik looked down and his eyes widened, seeing her unconscious on the floor. _We__'ll leave at once._

The com cut off, leaving Revel alone with Denravi. The convulsions had stopped, and she still breathed. "Come on, Sith," he said, caressing her cheek. "Wake up."

Revel looked around. They were in the middle of a large room, perfect for someone to sneak up on them. As carefully as he could, Revel picked Denravi up, cradling her in his arms. With his foot, he kicked her lightsaber to the side of the room. She'd kill him if she knew how he treated her weapon, but she'd have to wake up first, wouldn't she?

Putting his back against the wall, so he could see the whole room, Revel slid down into a sitting position, Denravi still in his arms. He tucked her head under his chin and reached for his blaster. His blood cooled a bit, knowing he would be able to kill anyone who walked into the room.

Might take Drellik a good twenty minutes to get here, maybe less if Ashara could act like a Sith for once. They'd leave her alone in here if she simply acted like a Sith instead of a scared alien Padawan. So Revel would make sure to keep Denravi safe until Drellik got here.

"Why are you doing this to me, Sith?" Revel asked, his voice barely audible. He ran his fingers through her hair, smelling the lemon and sage scent she favored. "Every day I wake up, wondering if this is the day you push me over the edge."

His fingers tightened around his blaster. He'd feel better if he could have both out, but one would have to do. "And every day, all I have to do is look at your face and realize there is no edge," Revel said, holding her closer with his free arm. "See what happens when you let ghosts try to kill you? I get sentimental. You'll have to get me pretty damn drunk if you ever want me to say that to your face."

Taking solace in the steady sound of her breathing, Revel kissed her temple. "Funny how this is going down. How many outs have you given me, huh? And now you might be the one leaving me." He didn't even want to think about what lay ahead of them if she woke up. The ghosts in her head would slowly drive her mad before killing her outright. Revel tried to think of his life without her.

He came up empty.

"Damnit," Revel muttered, the reality of his feelings hitting him smack in the face. He loved her. Had for a while, most likely. Part of him wanted to say the words out loud, see how they felt on his tongue. But instead he'd keep them close, bury them a bit and see what sprouted when things finally came to light. "Damnit, Sith."

"Revel?"

Revel looked up, hearing Drellik call his name. Good thing he did. Mood he was in, he'd be tempted to shoot anything that moved. "Over here," he yelled, flinching at how his voice echoed in the large room.

Drellik already had out his medkit and started to work even before kneeling down next to Denravi. "What happened?" Drellik asked. "Here, lay her down."

Handling Denravi as carefully as he could, Revel lay her on the ground, taking extra care to make sure her head didn't hit the hard stone floor. Looking up, he saw Ashara and Zash – he could tell now it was Zash, thanks to its posture - guarding the stairs, making sure they had complete privacy.

He reached out his hand before he could stop himself, placing it on Drellik's forearm. The officer looked taken aback by the contact. "Fix her," Revel said, his voice as coarse as sand. "Fix her, please."

"I'll do my best," Drellik said with a crisp nod, before kneeling down next to Denravi.

Revel moved to talk to Ashara and Zash. He had no healing skills and would only get in the way of Drellik if he hovered. "What happened?" Ashara asked, her eyes full of concern.

"Ghosts overwhelmed her," Revel said, rubbing the back of his neck. "They're trying to take over, it sounded like."

Zash cocked her head. "Have her dreams gotten worse?"

Revel nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. He never meant to betray Denravi's confidence by telling Zash about her dreams, but when she thrashed about in bed night after night, he just felt so damn _helpless._ "Every damn night, now."

"I have some ideas," Zash said. "Assuming she wakes up, there's research I'll need to do."

"I'll help," Ashara said, her voice soft. She bit at a thumb nail, looking always as worried as Revel felt. Ashara had gotten surprisingly attached to Denravi. He supposed it was some Force thing.

Revel looked at Denravi, laying completely still. Funny how she looked almost restful. "Anything, Drellik?" He walked over to them and squatted down. Her eyes moved behind their lids, but if that was a good sign or not, damned if he knew.

"She should wake soon."

Putting a hand over his mouth, Revel stared at the woman who managed to entwine herself into his soul without him even realizing. He _loved _her, and one day, he'd find the words to tell her.

He tried to picture the road ahead of them. Researching, looking for a sure to a disease which had no name and caused by ghost. But Revel would stay by her side through the worst of it. No doubt she would expect him to take off after this; a sane man would.

Good thing everyone always told him he was crazy.


	6. Sith Warrior, The Fury

**Class: **Sith Warrior

**When:** Episode III, Post Transponder Station

* * *

The moment the door shut safely behind him, Quinn slumped down in the officer's chair on the bridge. Generally, he prided himself of never sitting down while on duty, but he didn't actually know if he was on duty, did he? Anyway, he simply couldn't stand on his feet any longer. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him.

Maevry's body language all but screamed 'stay away' when she stalked into their quarters. He could bunk in the men's barracks for a bit, but Pierce would be there. And the man would either laugh or try to kill him. One thing Quinn could not fault Pierce for was his loyalty to their lord.

That left the bridge as his only refuge, and even it provided no comfort. Every inch of the bridge had memories which haunted him. In that corner, Quinn experienced the happiest moment of his life, when Maevry agreed to marry him. Then across the way, stood the wall they made love against a number of times.

What had _happened?_

Everything had made so much sense before the fight. Darth Baras had contacted him while they were on Voss, explaining what they needed to do for the good of the Empire. Quinn, naturally, resisted the idea at first. Maevry was his _wife._ But the more Baras spoke, the more Quinn realized she put her own goals ahead of the Empires. That simply could not be tolerated and he began the calculations at once.

But now…

Quinn rubbed his temples, trying to lessen the pounding in his head. How could he have doubted Maevry, even just for a moment? Like him, she only wanted the best for the Empire and fought for that vision every day. It was one of the things that made him fall in love with her.

And yet he overlooked all of that and tried to kill her. He had tried to kill his wife. Thank the stars he hadn't succeeded. Glancing at the door behind him, Quinn wondered how many minutes of life he had left. She didn't kill him on the station, as was her right, but perhaps she didn't want to lower herself to kill a traitor. Perhaps Pierce or Broonmark would walk through that door any minute now. Quinn wouldn't resist if they did.

He thought of all the dreams he had that would never see fruition now. A week ago, he dreamed of standing by Maevry's side as they brought glory to the Empire. Then there was his most cherished hope, watching his wife grow heavy with their child, raising a son or daughter together, ideally with her eyes.

His eyes closed and Quinn leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. Becoming so overwhelmed by his grief for the child he would never meet, he almost missed the door opening then closing behind him. Quinn choose not to react, not wanting to give his executioner the satisfaction.

But then he heard Maevry's soft footfall and he gulped. So she had decided to kill him herself. Quinn had not expected that honor. At least the last thing he saw in this galaxy would be her face…

"Malavai."

Her tone was soft and gentle, not angry at all. Quinn inhaled sharply at the use of his given name, then stood at attention at once, staring out the viewport. "My lord."

She let out almost an inaudible sigh before saying, "At ease, Captain."

Quinn heard the weariness in her voice and it killed him, knowing he was the main reason it could be heard. He wanted nothing more than to hold her then and protect her while she slept, letting her truly rest. Instead, he turned to face his wife, settling into a parade rest.

"Thank you for giving me time to meditate," Maevry said, clasping her arms firmly behind her back. Quinn knew that move. She did that when she wanted to fret, wanted to twist her fingers together, but needed to look professional. "I know we really couldn't speak on the station, not in front of Jaesa. Perhaps we could talk now."

"Of course," Quinn said at once, amazed she would give him a chance to speak at all. "My lord, if I may apol-"

"Don't you dare say you're sorry," Maevry said angrily. The calm demeanor she had walking onto the bridge snapped away. She started pacing the small bridge space. "This entire debacle is completely my fault."

"Your fault?" Quinn asked in disbelief. "My lord, I tried to _kill _you."

"Yes, and you failed miserably, which leads me to believe Baras coerced you. Droids, Quinn? Really? Do you not remember Balmorra when I single handedly destroyed the station. You told me then I was not a typical Sith." Maevry stopped pacing and placed her hands on her hips. "If you truly wanted me dead you would have killed me in my sleep. You know plenty of methods to make it appear I died a natural death, I'm sure."

"The thought hadn't even occurred to me," Quinn admitted. Why hadn't it? He could have had her killed a dozen different ways, thanks to her trust in him, and he only begun to think of them now. The pounding in his head grew stronger, like a dozen drums in sync.

"When did you start the calculations on the droids?" Maevry asked softly.

Closing his eyes, Quinn answered, "Just after we arrived on Voss. Baras contacted me through Darth Severin's office."

"And used the Force to manipulate you, no doubt," Maevry said. She sat down on one of the chairs and leaned back, crossing her legs. She looked absolutely exhausted and it pained him to see. "I was overconfident. I should have realized Baras would try to use you. But you hadn't sent him a report since we wed and I just assumed…"

"A report?" Quinn asked in surprise. "My lord, you knew I sent him reports on your activities?"

She gave him a look that told him she questioned his sanity at the moment. "Of course I knew. I assumed you knew that I knew, which is why you gave him hardly anything of value." She smiled weakly. "Baras must have been quite frustrated. Placing a spy on my ship and he hardly got anything for his trouble."

"I tried to serve you both faithfully, in the beginning," Quinn admitted.

"I know," Maevry said. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you." She brought her knees up to her chest and Quinn was struck by how young she looked. "I failed you, Malavai. I let you became a pawn between two warring Sith."

"There's nothing to forgive," Quinn said at once, meaning the words. He was a Captain in the Imperial Army, after all. He understood the risks of working for Sith.

"Don't say that so quickly," Maevry said, her voice sounding miserable. "I need to ask you to do something first." She stood up, looking stronger. "I worry that because of your years dealing with Baras he might have left more of an impression on you than you realize. A sort of foothold into your mind."

"That would explain why I deferred to him so quickly on Voss," Quinn said. He remembered protesting, saying that Baras tried to kill his wife and would never receive support from him again. But Baras kept talking and the next thing Quinn knew, he had a pad of droid algorithms in his hand.

"May I check?" Maevry asked. "If there is any corruption, I believe I have I the skill to dispel it."

Quinn raised both eyebrows. "Do it!" he said, his voice almost a shout. The thought that Baras left anything lingering in his head that could cause him to hurt his wife again pained him almost more than he could bear. She nodded and took a step towards him, biting her lower lip. "Why the hesitation? Maevry, please."

His voicing her given name spurred her to action. Any trace of doubt left her face as she stood in front of him, raising her hands, until they rested on either side of his temple. "This might hurt a bit," Maevry said, closing her eyes.

He couldn't imagine anything could hurt more than the moment the fog cleared and he had realized what exactly he had done to Maevry on the station. But then he felt the pressure in the center of his brain, which almost brought him to his knees. Quinn reached out to grab the wall to steady himself, taking deep breaths, willing the vice that held his mind hostage to loosen.

"Just a little more, Malavai," she whispered. "It's a stubborn little speck, but I'm stronger."

The confidence in her voice eased his pain a bit. Physical pain and he were old friends, but this, this mental pain was unlike anything he had experienced before. Quinn shot out his hands before he could stop himself, gripping Maevry's waist, hard enough to leave small bruises.

"There," Maevry said, her voice triumphant. The pain cleared at once and any will of staying upright left Quinn at her words and he collapsed to the floor. She followed him to the ground and he felt her hugging him to her body. "Damn Baras. He will never hurt you again, Malavai. I promise. He will suffer for what he's done to you."

Sleep, he needed sleep. Perhaps sleep would stop eluding him now that Baras no longer kept residence in his mind. Keeping his eyes closed tight, Quinn relaxed as Maevry stroked his hair, before resting his head in her lap. Everything would work out now. Baras would be defeated. Maevry would be the one to end him. She promised.

She always kept her promises.


	7. Jedi Knight, The Defender

**Class: **Jedi Knight

**When: **Chapter III, On the way to Corellia

* * *

"Archie?"

Doc felt his cheeks warm, as they always did when she said his given name. The only time she did was in the privacy of her, well, their quarters. Never in front of the crew. In front of them he was always 'Doc.' He still couldn't quite believe he didn't mind her calling him Archie. Then again, her argument of which name he would prefer to hear when she came was quite persuasive.

He sat on the side of the bed, naked, not even using the sheet to cover himself. "Go back to sleep, beautiful," Doc said, trying to sound casual. "Ol' Doc just has a lot on his mind."

With any other woman, the line would have worked. They would have seen his mussed up hair and his five o'clock shadow and been content to let him brood while they went back to sleep. But not Collins.

"Nice try," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

He heard her shifting in bed, while his toes dug into the carpeting. Her arms wrapped around him as he felt her straddling his hips with her thighs, finally resting the smooth skin of her cheek against his upper back. Grabbing her hands, Doc closed his eyes, and let her warmth wash over him.

"You know, this is supposed to be our wedding night," Collins said softly, squeezing his hands. "Didn't expect to wake up to find you so morose."

_Our wedding night._

Three words Doc never expected to hear in his lifetime. But like Collins said after their vows, he couldn't imagine things any other way. He never imagined that women like her actually existed. Maybe they didn't. Maybe she was the only one. Made special order just for Doc. "Yeah, I just…"

She placed a kiss between his shoulder blades and hugged him tighter. "Having second thoughts?" she asked. Her tone was light, but Doc heard the worry there. He hated making her doubt, even just for a moment.

"Not in a million years, gorgeous," Doc said emphatically. He felt her relax against him. If only it was as easy to erase his own doubts about things. "You're the one thing in this galaxy I'm sure about."

"Then what's wrong?" Collins asked, putting her palms on his thighs. They felt warm, warmer than hands should feel. He'd have to find out for good one of these days if she really did use Jedi tricks in bed. But part of him didn't want to know one way or the other.

"Just worried, I guess," Doc admitted. How could he tell her he was terrified on her behalf? "The Council's put so much pressure on you." He took a breath before realizing how that sounded. "Not that you can't handle it, of course."

Her fingers started trailing up his inner thighs and Doc felt himself responding. "Well," she said, nibbling the back of his neck. She always knew how to distract him. "We have a great team in place. And I have you. My secret weapon."

And there was the crux of it.

He had worked his way onto this boat thanks to his natural charisma and their initial attraction to each other. His hope was to be just a shipboard medic, he hadn't expected Collins to bring him along on missions to make sure she stayed in fighting shape. Not that he wanted to complain about that or anything. But…

Yes, he was a good doctor. Scratch that. He was a great doctor. One of the best. But good enough for Collins? To keep her alive against the Emperor himself?

"I don't want to lose you," Doc said roughly.

"I'm scared, too," Collins said. Her voice was quiet and all Doc wanted was to lose himself in the lull and safety of her words. "I keep reminding myself, 'There is no emotion. There is peace.' But the Jedi Code isn't helping in this case."

"But do you even believe that?" Doc asked, turning sideways on the bed, one leg dangling on the floor. Next to him, Collins brought her knees up to her chest. "I know for a fact you feel emotion."

"My interpretation might be a bit different than intended," Collins said with a wry smile. "Story of my life." Sliding back under the covers, Collins patted the space next to her. Doc didn't hesitate and joined her, arranging the quilt so he had a good view of her naked torso. It was their wedding night, after all.

"So how do you view it?" Doc asked curiously, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. They never really talked about this. He knew she broke the Jedi Code to be with him, but he never thought to ask why, besides the obvious, that he was simply irresistible. Well, and that she loved him.

Collins bit her lower lip ans looked thoughtful. "I look at that phrase as a reminder not to let emotion rule my life. Emotion can influence things, of course. I would have never married you otherwise. But I can't let that overpower everything else," Collins said, putting her hand on his hip. "As important as my love for you is, Archie, I won't ever let it define me. Just like I won't let the fear I feel for the upcoming fight overwhelm me. I won't let it win."

And just like that, he understood perfectly. He could feel fear about the upcoming battles on Corellia. He could and he would. But Doc would be strong like his wife. He wouldn't let his fears win and he'd damn well do everything in his power to make sure the two them make it home safe.

He reached for her then, bringing Collins in close before kissing her. A Jedi had no right to be such a great kisser. But damn if he wasn't glad for those skills.

Breaking away, Doc looked at Collins, with her tousled up hair and those freckles that would be the death of him some day. "It can't win, sweetheart," he said seriously as he pushed her onto her back, before settling between her legs. "We have a honeymoon to plan."


	8. Jedi Consular, The Defender II

**Class: **Jedi Consular

**When:** Episode III, before the Javelin

* * *

"CEDRAX!"

The shout jolted V'ryss from her meditation. Reaching out with the Force, she could feel the anxiety and dread surrounding the ship. Not content to simply let matters run their course, V'ryss stood up, wrapping her robe tightly around her, ready to investigate.

She followed the heightened sense of alarm towards the cargo bay. On her way, she passed Tharan stumbling out of the medbay. "I am in the middle of a number of delicate experiments," he grumbled, running his hand through his hair. "I do not have time, my Jedi, to be interrupted whenever one of these buffoons you insist keeping on this ship has a papercut."

Holiday popped up out of nowhere. "Hurry, Tharan."

Her words spurred Tharan into action, running at full speed into the cargo bay. V'ryss followed at a slightly slower pace, not wanting to delay him. She tried to figure out what might have happened. The cargo bay was used as an unofficial training room. Her companions worked out and sparred there often. If they required Tharan, an injury must have occurred.

But who? Surely she would be able to tell if Felix was inured? Though their bond was still so raw and new.

The answer to her question came more quickly than she'd like, seeing a pool of maroon blood on the floor. "Zenith," V'ryss said under her breath.

Tharan knelt by the Twi'lek's side, already applying a med pack. Zenith looked pale, but she sensed life in him and a slow steady pulse. "Holiday, darling, prep the kolto tank, please." His voice was calm, the same demeanor she had grown used to on the battlefield.

Holiday blinked out of the room, leaving the rest of her companions. Qyzen stood in the corner, arms crossed over his chest. Felix paced uncomfortably on one side. Based on his body language, V'ryss guessed that he caused the injury to Zenith.

"Qyzen, Iresso, a little help, please," Tharan said, standing up.

"He'll be okay?" Felix asked.

"An hour in the kolto tank will do wonders," Tharan said. "Can you two carry him into the medbay? Gently, please?"

V'ryss watched in silence as the men carefully picked Zenith up. Blood pooled on the right side of his tunic, where the injury must be. She tried to catch Felix's eye, but he refused to look at her.

"What's going on?" Nadia asked as she jogged into the cargo bay. "I felt something." V'ryss watched her scan the room and her eyes land on Zenith. "Oh no! Is he alright?"

"He'll be fine, my dear Padawan," Tharan said as he performed another medscan.

V'ryss stayed in the cargo bay to clean up, letting the rest of her companions go with Zenith. The medbay was small and it would do no one good to hover. Best to work on tangible goals, like cleaning. Tharan could give her a full report later.

"Well, he's in the tank," Felix said, walking into the room a while later. He looked tired and weary. "Cedrax says he'll be okay with a little rest…"

Throwing away a rag, V'ryss sat down on a nearby crate and patted the space next to her, inviting him to join her. Felix lowered his chin and walked forward. Standing in front of her, he held out his hand. V'ryss brought his hand to her lips and waited. Felix would tell her what happened when he was ready.

He sat down and V'ryss felt his body warmth thanks to his loose workout gear. "All my fault," he said finally. "I'm an idiot."

"You know that's not true," V'ryss said softly, squeezing his hand.

"Qyzen and Zenith have been helping me out," Felix said. "I've been… trying to learn how to heal."

"Heal?" V'ryss said, blinking rapidly. "Whatever for?"

Felix put his head in his hands. "Because I told you, I'm an idiot."

"Please stop saying that," V'ryss said gently, placing a hand on the back of his neck. "You're speaking of someone I care a great deal about." She leaned in to him. "There's nothing wrong with learning new skills."

"There is if it's for the wrong reasons," Felix said moodily. He sat up straight and let out an annoyed sigh. "I thought… maybe if I learned how to heal, you might bring me along on missions more instead of Cedrax."

V'ryss looked down at her hands. She would love to bring Felix along with her more than she did. But for an extended trip away from the ship, Tharan was the most logical choice thanks to his healing abilities.

"So I talked to Qyzen and Zenith, asked if they'd let me patch them up after sparring," Felix said, still staring down at the floor.

"And they agreed?" V'ryss asked.

"Never hurts to have another healer," Felix said, with a shrug. "I think I got cocky. Zenith told Qyzen to let loose. And did Qyzen ever let loose. I couldn't stop the blood. There was just so much damn blood."

She remained silent, sensing there was more to what he had to say. Her fingers traced the lines of the tattoo on his neck, then sliding down to his shoulder, where she traced the pattern by memory.

"I'm sorry," he said finally.

"For?" V'ryss asked. "All I've heard is that you'd like to spend more time with me." She cocked her head and felt a sense of shame radiating off of Felix. "Unless, this is really about me spending less time with Tharan?"

"I don't even know anymore," Felix said. "At first I think I wanted to learn out of spite. He's so damn smug sometimes. And I know you were only with him one night and that you're with me and he has Holiday…"

V'ryss, as a rule, did not question her past actions. Second guessing led to doubt, which was something she could not afford. But occasionally she wished she hadn't been selfish the night she slept with Tharan, that she had told him no. It certainly caused more problems than the solution she had hoped for.

"Are you saying you don't trust me alone with Tharan?" V'ryss asked quietly.

His eyes widened. "No!" he said, sitting up straight and turning towards her. He grabbed her hands anxiously. "Please, don't ever think I don't trust you. I trust you in anything and everything," Felix said, palming her cheek with his hand. ""V'ryss, I love you."

"And I love you," she said lightly. "I love you for who you are, not who you might become."

"That Jedi speak for 'stop trying to heal?'" Felix said. He chuckled and V'ryss sensed some of the stress and doubt leave his body.

"Not at all," V'ryss said, turning so she could rest her head on his shoulder. "If you want to learn how to heal, I'd welcome it. But I would encourage you to learn from Tharan instead of on your own."

"Doubt he'd want to teach me," Felix grumbled.

"Perhaps if you appealed to his better nature," V'ryss said. "Or possibly his vanity."

She scooted in closer as Felix put his arm around her shoulders. "Vanity sounds about right. Humble myself a bit and he'll be happy to lord it over me," he said.

"You're talking about learning skills that keep people alive, that heal them, Felix," V'ryss said, putting her hand on his knee. "I'd say learning that sort of power is humbling."

Felix took a breath. "You're right," he said. "These are skills to keep _you _alive. That's worth anything."

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Including a lecture by Tharan."


	9. Sith Inquisitor, The Fury

**Class: **Sith Inquisitor

**When: **Episode I, before Alderaan

* * *

"Sith."

"Pirate."

Denravi steps away from the practice dummy as Revel casually walks into the training room, wearing loose workout clothes. He nods once before standing in front of the weapons rack. Expecting him to pick up his usual ranged weapon, she raises an eyebrow as he grabs a practice saber.

"Here," he says, throwing the weapon towards her. Denravi lets the weapon land at her feet, not even attempting to catch it as he takes another practice saber from the rack.

"I beg your pardon?"

Revel gives her a grin. "You plan on taking me with you when we hit Alderaan?"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "I had considered it, yes," Denravi admits. Even with just the brief time they fought together on Tatooine, she realizes he's a better fit for her style than Khem Val. The Dashade wouldn't like it, but she finds she didn't particularly care.

"Then we have work to do," Revel says. He points at the practice saber at her feet with his own saber. "Let's go."

"And I'm supposed to take pointers from you?" she asks, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "You're a ranged fighter."

"You've got potential, Sith," Revel says, ignoring her words. Denravi's hands curl into fists. She does not like being ignored. "You lack subtlety. You sneak up on someone, stab them in the back and bludgeon them to death."

"I would have thought by now you'd realize I prefer the direct approach," Denravi says, letting her eyes linger on the curve of his shoulders. "It's worked so far."

"I've noticed," he says with a chuckle. "But we dealt with unorganized mercs on Nar Shaddaa and Tatooine." He reaches behind him, stretching his shoulders. "Alderaan? They've got professionals there. An army. Republic will be there, maybe even Jedi. You've got to improve."

"And you expect to be the one to improve me?" Denravi asks, surprised how much the thought appeals to her.

"Wasn't always a pirate, you know," Revel says with a shrug.

"Because I'm sure you had so many opportunities fighting for Moneyland," she snaps back, furious at her need to know more. He's a damn space pirate and she is Sith. Who he is shouldn't concern her one bit. Yet she senses the layers and tangles inside him and wants _more._

He turns the saber lazily in his hand, clearly showing experience with the weapon. "Someone had to protect the money."

With an exaggerated sigh, Denravi picks up the practice saber at her feet. "What do you need me to do?" she says, putting a pout into her voice.

"I'm just going to stand here," Revel says. "Attack me like anyone else." He pauses and looks at her hands. "Just none of that fancy schmancy lightning, okay?"

"That fancy schmancy lightning keeps me alive," Denravi says, putting a hand on her hip.

"Yeah, and how often does it wear you out, Sith?" he asks. "How many times have you had to rely on melee because you can't sustain the Force?"

More often than she cares to admit. Bloody Zash. The woman should be honing Denravi's skills instead of sending her on errands across the galaxy, doing her dirty work. There is so much Denravi doesn't know about the Sith way of life. She doesn't like having to play catch up all the time.

At her silence, he snorts. "That's what I thought," he says, turning his back to her. "Now attack me."

She took a breath and let the Force conceal her. She takes a step forward and prepares to attack when Revel says, "Have you tested the weapon yet? Tried a move or two? Check the balance?"

"No," Denravi says without thinking. But instead of doing any of those things, she goes on the offensive, starting with a Maul. The practice saber hits Revel square in the back.

He doesn't hesitate, turning on his heel, parrying her blade. He lunges, but Denravi is faster and moves out of the way, causing him to become slightly unbalanced. She takes advantage and swings her saber low and behind his knees. The move topples him to the ground. "Good one," he grunts as he stands up. He holds up a hand. "That wasn't a Sith move. I know Sith moves. Where'd you learn that?"

Denravi looks down at the floor, trying to catch her breath. She knew this was bound to come up sooner or later. "It was Chiss, actually." His brow furrows, but he says nothing. She feels put on the defensive, and she doesn't like it. "Yes, I'm not Chiss, but I grew up on Csilla. I picked up a thing or two before I became Force sensitive."

"Slave?" Revel asks softly. She looks at him sharply and he puts his hands up in surrender. "Been to Csilla a few times. Only other humans I saw there were all slaves."

"Yes, I was a slave," Denravi says. Her voice is clear and she hopes he understands she doesn't want one ounce of sympathy.

"How'd you get out?" Revel asks curiously.

"Does it matter?" Denravi spats. She makes point of not looking at him and instead practices a Thrash at an imaginary opponent. "I am Sith." He's still looking at her, head tilted and it's disconcerting, thinking he might be as curious about her as she is him. She relents, but only in hopes he might reveal a bit about his past, she tells herself. "Fine. I realized how to make myself disappear at a young age. My master learned of it and I killed him. Turns out a Sith was visiting the house, and wouldn't let the family kill me in response and sent me to Korriban instead."

"Happy ending, then," Revel says, with a nod of his head. "Not every story ends up with one."

She thinks of his story, becoming a pirate and then having to kill every single member of his crew. About as far as a happy ending as one could get. Well, he's part of her crew now. They'll write a new story. But for now, they've shared enough. "Are we here to gossip or practice?"

He grins, and the tattoo around his eye crinkles, causing her to wonder if he's inked anywhere else. "And you thought you didn't want to learn."


	10. Jedi Consular, The Defender III

V'ryss lay on her side, trying to remember the last time she felt so content. Naked in bed, her body covered with a thin layer of sweat, her hair an absolute mess and Felix right across from her.

"How much longer do we have?" she asked. His surprise of forced privacy had been one of his better ideas.

"Just over two hours," Felix said, reaching out to stroke her cheek. "Sort of wish we had longer."

V'ryss took a breath, realizing the gravity of what she was about to offer. With so many diplomats on the ship, word would no doubt make it back to the Jedi Council. Perhaps those same diplomats would find her less worthy as an ambassador. No matter. So much had happened, she wanted Felix by her side through the brunt of it.

"If you want, you're free to spend your nights here," V'ryss said softly, reaching out for his hand. "I'd like the company."

"Yeah?" Felix asked. V'ryss felt a gentle pressure as he squeezed her hand. "People will talk. You know how ship scuttlebutt goes."

"They can talk all they like," V'ryss said, hearing the defiance in her voice. "Everything is so mixed up right now. I just want to spend as much time as possible with you."

"I'd like that," Felix said, a smile on his lips. "I'd like that a lot." He leaned forward and kissed her. V'ryss breathed in deeply, trying to take him all in. She loved the way he smelled out of armor. Reminded her of the woods of Tython.

"So how shall we occupy ourselves for the next two hours?" V'ryss asked slyly, sliding her palm up Felix's thigh.

Letting out a bark of a laugh, Felix said, "Oh believe me, we will. I just need a little more time to recover first."

She gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Fair enough," she said, settling her head back on the pillow.

"That a Chiss thing?" Felix asked curiously. "Being able to go again right away?"

"I wouldn't know, actually," V'ryss said. "I've never had sex with a Chiss."

"Really?"

"Well, it's not like there are a lot of Chiss in Republic space," V'ryss said, shrugging a shoulder. "So I never bothered to look anything up on the holonet when I was young."

"Fair enough," Felix said. His next words sounded too casual to be a spur of a moment suggestion. She heard a rehearsed quality to his voice. "Maybe we could just talk to waste some time. There has to be something you're curious about. How bout you ask me a question and I'll ask you one?"

"Thought you don't want me giving up all my secrets," V'ryss said, teasing him a bit.

"You won't be. Just one or two until I'm recovered enough to ravish you again," Felix said, kissing her shoulder. "You first."

"Your tattoos," V'ryss blurted out at once. Until this afternoon, she assumed he only had the facial tattoo. But then as they slowly undressed each other, she was pleasantly surprised to discover they went down the entire right side of his body. His shoulder, his torso, hip, thigh, calf and even ankle.

"Think of them as an Iresso history lesson," Felix said. "It's a home world thing. Went out of favor for a while, but after the Empire came, lots of us started up again."

"How does it work?" V'ryss asked, tracing the tattoo on his hip with the tip of her finger.

Felix shuddered before saying, "At 18, I get the same tattoo as my father. A daughter would take her mother's. Then every time something big happens, say I get married or someone close to me dies, I'll add to the tattoo."

"So your life story is etched into your skin," V'ryss said softly. "That's a beautiful idea. Have you added to the tattoo at all?"

Pointing to a small circle on his shoulder, he said, "This is for my mother." V'ryss leaned forward and kissed the spot, thinking of the type of woman who would have raised a son like Felix. "She was a good woman. She would have liked you."

"I'm sure it would have been mutual," V'ryss said. "Thank you for telling me about your tattoos."

"That mean it's my turn?"

V'ryss took a breath, wondering what her blank wanted to know. "Yes."

"I'm going to start this by admitting I tried to find the answer myself," Felix said, running his finger through her hair. "But personal information about Jedi is almost impossible to find."

"For good reason," V'ryss said, kissing his nose.

"You're right, of course, but that doesn't help poor Republic lieutenants trying to get the dirt on their girlfriends," Felix said.

With a chuckle, V'ryss turned to lie on her back. "Ask what you wish," she said. "I am an open book."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," Felix said. "So… Just how old are you?"

Letting out a sigh, V'ryss closed her eyes. "I hoped you would never ask that question."

"Why?" Felix said. "Are you a lot older than you look? I'm thirty-one if that matters at all." He nuzzled her neck and V'ryss felt herself responding to his touch. "Nothing wrong with an attractive older woman."

"How old do you think I am?" V'ryss asked, turning the question around.

"Mid twenties, though when you act the diplomat you seem much older," Felix said.

V'ryss turned to look at him. "You need to understand something," she said. "Chiss and Humans age differently."

"Yeah?" Felix asked, and she could see the curiosity in his eyes. "How so?"

"Chiss have a much shorter childhood than Human children. Physically and mentally, Chiss reach adulthood by age thirteen," V'ryss said. "So a thirteen year old Chiss is the equivalent of an eighteen year old Human."

"Which makes you…" Felix trailed off.

"I turned seventeen not long ago."

Felix turned over onto his back and let out a deep breath. "And you're an adult. Even though you're only seventeen years old."

"Exactly. I'm an adult. I have been for some time," V'ryss repeated. She sensed that he was slightly uncomfortable with the idea. "I should have told you sooner. I'm sorry, Felix."

"No, no, it's okay," Felix said at once. "You have nothing to apologize for. I never thought to look up anything about Chiss biology." His hand found hers and V'ryss gave it a squeeze. "And you're okay with me being twice your age?"

"What's a few years between friends?" V'ryss asked with a laugh.

With a smooth movement, she sat up and straddled his hips. She let her hands follow the path of his tattoo down from his shoulder. Someday, she'd ask him about all the marking, each circle and square and learn all his history. And she wondered, if she would ever be important enough in his life to warrant adding to the story.

By the way he looked up at her, love in his eyes, somehow she thought she just might.


	11. Sith Warrior, Hoth

**Class: **Sith Warrior

**When:** Episode II, Hoth

* * *

Quinn straightened his uniform one last time. It wouldn't do to have anything out of place when he saw his Lord this morning, not after her teasing comment of finally seeing his uniform on the floor last night.

His thoughts lingered on how she looked then, lying languidly on her side, hair loose around her shoulders. Stars, she was beautiful. And now, after the gift Maevry had given him, he had no doubt. To think he was the first… She truly wanted to be with him.

He never thought she had lied to him exactly, merely exaggerated. One hears stories of the sexual appetite of the Sith, after all. But then Quinn saw the grimace on her face as they joined and the small pool of blood afterward. And as they made love, he whispered encouraging sweet nothings in her ear as she clung to him like she never wanted to let him go.

All in all, it had been a _very_ goodnight.

But now Quinn needed to focus on the task at hand. Their Lord Baras trusted them with a monumental undertaking. Quinn would not let them down. He would do all in his power to ensure that the operation on Hoth was a complete success.

"Ready, Captain?"

She stood at the doorway of the ship, wearing her favored tunic and trousers, not a single hair out of place. Pushing down a swell of desire, Quinn nodded briskly. "My Lord."

One hurdle overcome. He had been concerned that the change in their relations might affect their day to day working relationship. He shouldn't have doubted. Maevry had never been anything but a complete professional outside of the bridge, where they had privacy. And her quarters. Where he had slept last night.

_Damnit, man, pull yourself together._

"Then let's get started," Maevry said.

Between the trip to the surface and dealing with various military and Sith, several hours passed before they were alone and ready to venture forth. Quinn fished two ration bars from the pockets of his uniform tunic and offered one to Maevry.

Her eyes lit up at the packaging. "Almond butter! Did you choose my favorite on purpose, Captain?" she said with a smile.

He had, but she certainly didn't need to know that. "Luck of the draw, my Lord," he said, unwrapping his own apple flavored bar.

They ate in silence for a few moments before Maevry said, her voice soft, "To think so many lives ended on this planet... The Force is strong here, especially the dark side."

Quinn listened carefully to her talk. She so rarely discussed the Force to anyone outside of Jaesa. Especially the balance between light and dark, considering Maevry tended to err on the side of light. "Does that bother you at all?" he asked.

"Not at all," Maevry said. "Even though I prefer the light, do not doubt there is dark within me. If I thought the Empire was threatened and the only way to stop it would be to commit to the dark side, I would not hesitate."

"That is admirable, to know one's self so well," Quinn said. She handed Quinn the wrapper, and he wondered if the way her fingers lingered on his was a bit deliberate. He placed both wrappers back in a pocket, not willing to leave any sort of a trail.

"Whenever you're ready, my Lord. I believe the contingent of Republic soldiers should be to the east," Quinn said, unholstering his blaster.

She nodded and they started to walk, Maevry on the balls of her feet, ready to spring into a Force Leap at any moment. A shout close by could be heard and Maevry froze. Her eyes closed and Quinn waited in anticipation, never tiring of seeing the transformation from Maevry into a Sith Lord.

At once it occurred. The moment her hands touched her lightsabers the transition was complete. With a Force Leap, Maerbry attacked the Republic healer. The three other soldiers all focused their attacks on her, allowing Quinn to fire at will.

As always, Maevry fought with her heart outside her chest. Outside of battle, one might call her reserved, but in the heat of the moment, even a non-Force sensitive like he could feel the power and emotion flow through her.

Anger that someone dare challenge her authority. Hatred of chaos and the unknown. Her passion for the Empire, that it serve its citizens as best it should. But today Quinn sensed something else. A sexual undercurrent he had never felt from her before.

His body responded, understanding that those feelings radiated from her because of _him._ He had done that. Never had he seen her so focused or determined. Their one night together had changed her relationship with the Force.

They worked together, defeating the Republic soldiers then sabotaging the arrays as the Darth's request. Once finished, Maevry put her hands on her knees, catching her breath. "Did you sense it?" Maevry asked, her voice crisp and unwavering. She looked at him, bright eyed.

Quinn prided himself on his restraint. He was a Captain in the Imperial Army, after all, not an undiscplined school boy. But he decided no sane man could resist the look in his lord's eyes. So he didn't, pushing Maevry up against the wall and kissed her with a hunger that startled him.

The small shelter housing the generator protected them from the elements, thankfully. Quinn decided to take his time and kiss her properly, bringing her hips flush against his, so she could feel just how much she had affected him.

"Do you believe me now?" Maebry whispered as he started to kiss her neck. Her fingers dug into his uniform tunic, trying to bring him closer. "What did I tell you?"

He kissed her hard then, with every ounce of strength he had, before breaking away and answering roughly, "Passion will make us stronger."

"Yes," Maevry said, her voice soft as in prayer. "Oh yes."

Stars, if he could take her now, he would. Maevry would welcome him, no doubt. He could simply turn her around and pull down her trousers… Quinn took a step back and caught his breath. They had a mission to complete. The mission had to come first.

His lord seemed to have the same realization. "We best keep moving," she said and Quinn didn't imagine the gleam in her eye. "But I would very much like to revisit this topic tonight."

"Indeed, my lord," he said as they headed back out into the cold. Funny how it didn't seem so chilly now. "You know how much I enjoy a debate. Especially a _thorough_ one."


	12. Republic Trooper, post Hoth

**Class: **Republic Trooper

**When: **Episode II, post Hoth

* * *

Even after five minutes in the shuttle, Wynneth still felt cold. Hoth seemed to have seeped into her skin and she idly wondered if she'd ever be warm again. She placed her gloved hands on her thighs and tried to get a sense of Jorgan sitting across from her.

Her XO had been surly ever since they left the Star of Coruscant. She had hoped they might have another shuttle ride like the one from Quesh, where they sat a bit too close to be considered professional and where their hands lingered together a bit too long as he helped her from the shuttle.

But Jorgan had completely closed himself off, his weapon slung across his lap, staring at the shuttle floor. Wynneth wondered if he finally had enough, if he decided that a bit of flirtation with his commanding officer simply wasn't worth the risk.

If he had, Wynneth couldn't shake the feeling that they would miss the chance for something special.

As they approached the orbital station, Jorgan stood up, slinging his weapon onto his back, and waited in front of the shuttle door. His body language all but screamed, 'keep away,' so Wynneth kept her distance.

The walk to the elevator leading to the ship's hangar was filled with silence. Wynneth wouldn't call it an uncomfortable one, but it certainly wasn't the silence she had grown used to, the one where they could clean their armor or work on mods together, with a knowing smile between them now and then.

The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. The moment the doors closed behind them, Jorgan slammed his palm against the wall yelling, "Blast it!"

Wynneth felt her heart begin to race at the sudden outburst. "Jorgan!" she said, trying not to sound startled.

She watched as Jorgan grimaced and bit his lower lip. "Sorry about that, sir," he said, bringing his wrist up to his chest. Wynneth heard the pain in his voice. "Been holding that in for a while."

The doors opened and they started the walk to the ship. "You want to talk about it?" she asked, ignoring the slight warmth building that he felt comfortable enough with her to let go about something, even when she didn't know what that something was.

He shrugged as they stood at the door to the ship. "Think I need to get my wrist looked at. I should know better," he said, shaking his head. "Stupid."

"You want me to wake Dorne?" Wynneth asked as they stepped inside the ship. It was after midnight, ship's time, so the lights were dimmed and even the droid was quiet for once.

"Nah, let her sleep," Jorgan said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Think you could take a look?

"Of course," Wynneth said. She had enough confidence in her healing abilities to fix anything wrong with Jorgan's wrist. "Let me change out of this armor first."

Jorgan nodded. "Not a bad idea. I'll do the same," he said, sounding more like his normal gruff self. But then he looked down at the ground. "I'd prefer no one else knowing about this. Mind if I just come over to your quarters to get this looked at?"

Wynneth felt her cheeks redden and hoped Jorgan wouldn't notice. He'd never been in her quarters before. None of the squad had. "Sure," Wynneth said far too quickly. "Let's get changed and then come on over."

"Appreciate it," Jorgan said. With another nod of the head, he turned and headed towards the common bunk room.

Wynneth all but sprinted into her quarters. As she changed into her normal off-duty clothes of a plain skirt and t-shirt, she looked at her quarters with a critical eye. The place looked clean and organized, just as she hoped.

The minutes passed ridiculously slow as Wynneth paced her quarters. Should she sit on the bed? At her workstation? Simply stand in the middle of the room? Protocol would demand that they simply stand with the door open, but she'd be damned if she wasted this opportunity to spend some private time with Jorgan.

Not that she could ever make the first move, not when she was his commanding officer. No, she'd have to be patient and hope that someday, preferably soon, Jorgan said something.

She heard the knock on the door, opening it quickly. Jorgan strode inside, wearing a pair of workout pants and a t-shirt. Wynneth gave herself just a second to enjoy the curve of his shoulders before motioning him over to the bed.

She purposely sat down first, giving Jorgan the choice to sit as far or as close as he wanted to her. He sat down close, so close their hips were almost touching. Grabbing her med scanner, Wynneth started the reading.

With a deep breath, Wynneth reached for his hand, well aware this was the first time they'd ever touched without their armored gloves. She had wondered what a Cathar's hide, well, what Jorgan's hide would feel like for quite a while now.

She hadn't expected velvet.

"So am I going to live?" Jorgan asked, a wry smile on his face.

Wynneth smiled and pushed back a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Scanner says it's just a strain," she said. "I'll give you a kolto jolt and you should probably go easy on it for a day, but then you'll be fine."

"Thanks."

A comfortable silence settled over them as she prepped the kolto. But then Jorgan let out a long sigh. "I shouldn't have let it bother me."

Instead of asking the obvious, Wynneth simply tilted her head towards Jorgan, letting him know she was listening.

"He was a blasted Imp," Jorgan said, his voice quiet. "Why should I give a damn what an Imp thinks about the Cathar?"

Wynneth furrowed her brow, trying to remember what that Imperial captain had called Zareen in the Star of Coruscant. And then she did.

_Mangy. Subhuman scum._

"Because you're worried other people think that," Wynneth said, her voice low as she injected his wrist with the kolto jolt. "Believe me, I under-"

Jorgan stood up and shook his head. "Don't finish that thought," he said. The words were harsh but the tone gentle. "You're human. You _can__'t_ understand."

Her fingers started tracing the cybernetics, the ones that kept the seizures at bay, allowing her to have a normal life, which outlined her right eye. "Not quite human according to some," she said with a shrug. "But you're right, it's completely different."

His body seemed to deflate a bit as he stood in the center of her room, hands on his hips, but body relaxed. "I wonder if I feel that way sometimes. Maybe it's why I feel like I have to fight so hard to prove I belong here."

Wynneth took the risk and stood up, walking next to him. "I told you then that the Cathar would always have a home in the Republic," she said, putting her hand on his upper arm, feeling the body heat radiating from him. Their eyes met then and Wynneth felt her stomach twist into knots and wondered if this affected him at all. "And as long as I'm CO, you'll always have a home with Havoc."

The air around them seemed to change, a tangible change, one she could sense. Neither one of them seemed willing to look away first and somehow, their previous flirtations seemed small in comparison. And Wynneth realized just how deep her feelings went. Scary things, feelings. Especially when it could ruin her career. She shouldn't do this, _they_ shouldn't do this, but all she cared about was how they still were looking at each other, far longer than comrades in arms should.

Jorgan broke the spell first, holding up his wrist. "Thanks again, rookie," he said, taking a step back. "Appreciate the assist."

She smoothed her skirt against her legs. "Anytime," she said as they walked towards the closed door. "Travel day tomorrow."

He nodded. "You want to spar a bit? I'm already bored sparring with Vik."

"Always enjoy kicking my XO's ass," Wynneth said with a laugh. "You're on."

Jorgan walked out the door before turning back towards her. "Captain. Wynneth," he said, raising his chin slightly as if he worried she'd reprimand him for using her given name. "Thank you."

The sincerity in his voice startled her. So she laid herself bare as she answered, "You're welcome, Aric," as honestly as she could.

She saw the smile in his eyes as he nodded and Wynneth watched him walk back to the common bunk before heading back into her own quarters. Feeling the subtle vibration in the deck plating indicating the ship was free of the docking bay, Wynneth decided she couldn't wait to spar tomorrow.


	13. Sith Warrior, Rishii

Maevry leans against the door, ignoring the cool, clinical walls of the medical facility, and focuses only on her husband, unconscious in a kolto tank. Thanks to the sedatives given, Quinn looks rested, almost peaceful for once; a look she rarely has the luxury to see these days, thanks to Revan.

If Quinn had to become injured, why here on Rishii of all places? She hates the damn place even more now. She wanted to bring him back to the ship, but he insisted that his injuries from the pirates were severe enough that the trip would take too long. So thanks to a quick holocall to Lana, they found a private medical facility. And now Maevry waits.

She _hates_ waiting.

#

The doctor leaves the room and Quinn starts to put on his uniform, methodically and efficiently, the way he's dressed almost every day of his adult life. He risks a glance at his wife, she's quiet and still, sitting in a chair, reading a datapad. Trying to catchup on the latest news of the Empire, no doubt. Quinn would need to do the same once he's out of this blasted facility. Three days in a kolto tank. Three days they couldn't afford to lose. Three days when he wasn't by her side.

The look on Maevry's face is serious, so he tries to lighten the mood a bit. Tugging on his uniform jacket, Quinn says, "I'll be back at peak efficiency, before you know it, my love." Maevry looks up at him, then, crossing her arms over her chest, her face blank. His brow furrows. Usually she never fails to smile at the words _peak efficiency_; they have become a private joke between them. "My lord?"

"We need to discuss what happened, Captain," Maevry says softly.

At the use of his title, Quinn straightens into a parade rest. When they're alone, she only ever calls him captain if they're discussing work. It's a distinction that's works well for them. "What would you like to discuss, my lord?"

"Ilum, Makeb, and now Rishii," Maevry says with a sigh. "You've been seriously wounded on all three planets."

Quinn wants to retort, wants to defend himself, but she hasn't given him permission to speak, so he clenches his jaw and waits. What she says is true, but it's been because of bad luck, is all, not inferior tactics and execution on his part.

She stands, bringing the heel of her hand to her temple. "I think it's time you consider wearing something other than your uniform out in the field. Perhaps a hard suit like Pierce."

The first thought that crosses his mind is he will _never _wear the same hard suit at Pierce. "May I speak, my lord?"

Her voice sounds exasperated when she says, "Of course. You don't need permission, you _know_ this."

"The lieutenant and I have different roles out in the field. His whole job is get people to hit him, he needs the heavy armor, I do not," Quinn says. "It would restrict my movement. I need-"

"And I need to not look behind me to see my husband crumpled on the ground," Maevry says, anger lacing her words. His wife rarely gets angry outside of battle, it's something he relishes when he's there to witness it. Because usually it's not directed at him. "Leathers, then, something more substantial than an Imperial uniform."

"My lord, my uniform has a polyplast lining. It _is _more substantial," Quinn says. He requisitioned this uniform himself last time they went to Dromund Kaas.

"Then stop getting hit in battle!"

His gaze fell to the floor. He's failed her, he realizes, his heart beginning to stammer. She's right, she's absolutely right. Here he is, trying to make excuses, when the truth is staring him in the face. He no longer fights as good as he did twenty years ago. Granted, Quinn knows the experience he's had in those twenty years is invaluable. But it's not the same as being twenty-five and in the prime shape of his life.

Maevry stands next to him now, as she places her small hand in his, giving it a squeeze. "Malavai, you're over forty now," she says. Her voice is low but thankfully there is no pity in her voice. He couldn't stand that, not when she's only twenty-seven years old and still has the best years of her life ahead of her. "There's no shame in adjusting your strategy. You're not dodging as quickly as you were. Perhaps it's time to make allowances."

"Such as a hard suit?" Quinn says bitterly.

"Yes," Maevry says. "Why is that such a bad thing? It will keep you safe, so you can keep me safe."

At her words, he eases out of parade rest and puts his hands on his wife's waist. He hadn't thought of it like that. He can't think of anything he wouldn't do to keep her safe from harm. Including wearing a hard suit. "I'm sure we can find something workable here on Rishii until we can go back to Dromund Kaas to procure a custom kit."

"Thank you," Maevry says, and he's gratified when she rises up on tiptoes to press her lips against his. "Now let's get back to it."

"Of course, my love," he says. They separate, and Quinn waits a dutiful few steps before following her out the door. "I refuse to wear the same one Pierce has."

"Would never ask you to," his wife says, and he can hear the smile in her voice.

"Just so we're clear."

"Crystal."


End file.
